Kisses & Cappuccinos
by d0ntbleenk
Summary: Malia is the new barista at the coffee shop Stiles, a rookie police officer, frequents. AU/AH!Stalia.
1. First Day

Hello all! I originally posted the first chapter (this chapter) to my tumblr (mashfords) and planned on posting subsequent chapters there as well, but then I remembered that I had this account and decided to move it here for better readability. So tada! Welcome to Kisses and Cappuccinos 2.0! This is a Stiles/Malia Alternate Universe fic - everyone is human and they've already graduated college. Malia and Kira are roommates.

**Disclaimer:** I did not come up with the idea for this story. I found a prompt in the "stalia shippers club" tag (credit to hailmaliahale!) that was just too cute to ignore and this is what happened.

Okay, now that that's all out of the way, here we go! Enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter One: First Day**

She moved as quickly and efficiently as she could in the cramped space behind the counter, trying not to bump into her coworkers or spill hot coffee down her front as she served up order after order. She was genuinely surprised at how well she was doing, especially since it was only her first day.

"Hey Malia, how're you holding up?" called Kira, her best friend and fellow barista, from where she was expertly spraying whipped cream on top of the frappuccino she had just finished making. "It sucks that you're getting slammed like this already."

"Yeah, no, it's fine. It's better to just jump in with both feet, right?" Malia replied, pulling the permanent marker from its home behind her ear and scribbling the next customer's name and order onto a cup. "Besides, I asked to start as soon as possible. The faster I can work on paying off my student loans, the better."

Kira nodded, laughing, "Amen."

Malia smiled, taking a moment to forget about all of the stress that her day - and life, really - were packing on. She took a deep breath, taking in the scent of freshly ground coffee and baked goods, observing the patrons sitting in armchairs and at small tables, doing work or talking amongst themselves. Working at a coffee shop hadn't exactly been her dream just-out-of-college job, but she hadn't really had a choice.

She'd only been able to hold out for a few months before her roommate - Kira - had forced her to get off her ass and apply at Greenberg's. It was far from The Dream, but it was still something.

The brunette sighed, in the middle of replenishing the coffee beans in the machine when she noticed something in the corner of her eye. Turning, she saw someone pushing their way frantically to the front of the line - a cop, brandishing his badge as if that was justification for his actions.

She and Kira exchanged a look.

One of the younger baristas, a college junior named Liam, was at the register to greet him, and by the tone of his voice, she could tell that he was just as bewildered as the others were.

"Did you seriously just cut in front of all those people like that?" He demanded, incredulous.

The cop seemed slightly taken aback. Whether it was at the question or his tone, Malia couldn't have been sure. "Well, yeah, but look - I'm kind of running late, _really_ late, and need -"

"Don't you think there are a dozen other people in here who are in the same position as you right now?" Liam shot back. "It's almost seven in the morning. What makes you so special?" He was heated, and totally out of line.

But then again, he supposedly had a history of anger issues so it was to be expected.

Before Malia knew what was happening, Kira's hands were on her arms, steering her towards the register in an attempt to diffuse the situation. She didn't have time to protest. "Take over before he gets himself arrested," she hissed. Malia opened her mouth to respond, but Kira just flashed a pleasant but nervous smile to the cop, leaving her standing there awkwardly.

Malia cleared her throat, leaning towards Liam. "Uh, Liam, I think Kira needs your help with something…" she whispered pointedly, hoping he'd leave without a fight.

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _'asshole'_, and shuffled off to find another task to do.

"Sorry about that," Malia said to the cop finally, exhaling heavily as she brushed her hair out of her face and looked at him. For a moment she allowed herself to really look; he was only a few inches taller than her, with messy brown hair, broad shoulders, and a lean build that looked good in his police uniform.

She was so caught up in his appearance that she hardly noticed that he was talking to her. "No," he was saying, "he's right. Total dick move, right?"

Her first instinct was to agree with him, but with her bottom lip caught in her teeth, she held her tongue. Kira would probably have a coronary if she heard another inappropriate comment directed towards a customer this morning.

A customer cleared their throat, and she suddenly remembered what she was _really_ standing there for. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. You're still in a hurry. How can I help you?"

He blinked then, and she realized that he had been lost in his thoughts, too. She wondered momentarily what he'd been thinking about. "Right, uh, the coffee I came here for." he pulled out his wallet. "Can I have six of those? House blend. Black."

"_Six?_" Malia repeated.

"Yeah, I like to have one every two hours just to keep my wits about me while I'm filing paperwork." He smirked, amused, and Malia rolled her eyes, ringing him up. "I was sent by the station."

"BHPD's very own Coffee Boy," she acknowledged, taking his money and handing him his change. "Can I have a name for the order? Or would you prefer Coffee Boy?"

"Stilinski," he replied simply, before moving out of the way so the next customer could order. Smiling, Malia wrote the name down, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer than necessary, before finally giving the next person her full attention.

—

She was out of breath and soaking wet through her coat when she finally ducked into Greenberg's the next day, creating a puddle around her on the floor as she stopped to catch her breath, pushing her hood off her head.

"Hey! I just mopped that," Liam scolded, stopping his wiping down of the counter to glare at her.

Malia muttered an apology, her eyes finding Kira standing a few feet away by a table, chatting up a boy with dark hair and the likeness of an overgrown puppy. Her boyfriend, Scott McCall.

As she was making a beeline for them and shrugging off her coat, Kira finally noticed her. "Oh, there she is. Malia, there's someone I'd like for you to meet."

The brunette's eyebrows furrowed as she came to a stop next to her friend. "But I already know - _oh_." Her mouth hung open slightly as she stared at the third person in the group. It was the guy from the previous day, the cop that had skipped the line and pissed Liam off.

No wonder they were sitting so far away from the counter.

"Coffee Boy," she murmured on impulse, causing a number of eyebrows to raise questioningly. The cop merely laughed, straightening up in his chair.

"Good, you remember me," he said, grinning. "And while I'm not opposed to the nickname, I prefer to be called Stiles. Stiles Stilinski."

"Malia Tate."

"You two have met?" Scott chimed in, looking confused.

Kira nodded, a small smile on her lips as well. "Mhm. Yesterday. He was causing problems and she handled it like a pro." She winked at Malia.

"I was not causing problems!"

"You cut in front of like a dozen people!"

Malia laughed at their banter, though she couldn't take her eyes off of the guy - Stiles. What kind of name was that anyway? She shook off the thought, suddenly distracted by the way he looked in that uniform again. He was in early today. She noted the empty mug on the table in front of him. "Can I get you a refill?"

"No, no, we'll get it. Sit." Kira insisted, grabbing her boyfriend's arm and dragging him off to get more drinks.

The brunette couldn't help but think about what her friend was doing. It was pretty clear that she wanted them to hit things off - whether it was for Malia's benefit or her own, she still hadn't put a finger on. But Malia draped her coat over the back of the now vacant chair and sat down nonetheless.

She was supposed to be working, but the shop was otherwise empty - slow for a Thursday morning. And besides, it couldn't hurt to talk to him for a few minutes.

"So how long have you been working here?" Stiles asked after a moment of silence.

"Technically two days," she admitted, shrugging. "Kira was the one who put me up to applying. Do you come here often?" It was odd that she'd seen him twice now, but maybe he had been a regular long before she had started working there.

Stiles leaned back in his chair. "Most days, yeah. During the week it's on coffee runs, but sometimes I come to do work, or read, or just check out some of the live shows." He explained. "The coffee's pretty decent, too."

Malia couldn't help but smile as he cracked an amused grin, completely bemused by how comfortable he made her feel even after a few minutes.

She couldn't tell if it was because that was part of his job - to make people feel comfortable, and safe - or because he was genuinely _not_ an asshole, despite what Liam thought.

Maybe he was the reason, deep down, why she had been so quick to take the extra shift this morning - maybe subconsciously she had _hoped_ to see him again. And as fate would have it, here she was. Sitting across from him, still wet from the rain. She didn't know whether she should yell at Kira or hug her.

She'd really have to think about it.

"Hey, Stiles, you ready to go?" Scott had returned with two to-go cups of coffee, Kira at his side. Malia glanced at the big clock on the back wall - it was a quarter to seven.

"Yeah, sorry," he added, looking back at Malia as he stood up and pulled on his jacket. "Duty calls."

Malia fought the urge to roll her eyes, her lips twitching. "Until next time, Coffee Boy."

Stiles shook his head. "You're never going to let that one go, are you?"

"Nope," she told him matter-of-factly, wiggling her fingers in a little wave as he and Scott turned and left the shop, disappearing into the downpour. Malia turned, intending to get to work, only to be stopped by Kira standing in her way.

She was grinning way too big.

"What?"

"You know what."

"Kira, I only just met the guy. It's nothing," Malia shook her head as she walked around her friend, but she couldn't help but second guess herself.

It _was_ nothing. Right?

Kira was on her heels. "Well, he was all for coming to the show tomorrow night when I told him that we were going to be there."

"He likes the shows here," Malia said dismissively.

"He likes _you_."

Malia felt her cheeks burning as she glanced at Liam, who was standing just outside of earshot. But it was a small coffee shop - he'd probably seen and heard everything anyway. "Can we not do this right now?"

Kira held her hands up in front of herself defensively, surrendering. "Okay, okay, I'm done. Don't bite my head off. I love you."

"I love you, too," she sighed, shaking her head as she tied her apron around her waist and moved to take a customer's order at the register, trying her best not to stress over the fact that she - _sort of_ - had a date. Tomorrow. With some guy she just met (and her best friend and best friend's boyfriend).

This was going to be interesting.


	2. Comfortable

**Chapter Two: Comfortable**

"I hate you. I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I can't do this. Have I mentioned that _I hate you_?"

Kira rolled her eyes, grabbing her friend's arm when she tried to turn back in the middle of the sidewalk. "You don't hate me," she told her. "And since when do you ever back out of anything? It's usually _you_ who has to push _me_ out of the apartment in these situations."

Malia brushed her hair out of her face, resignedly continuing down the street in step with her friend. "Well this is a special occasion."

"Too bad. We're here," Kira replied, her face instantly lighting up when she saw all of the people pouring in and out of the coffee shop. Open Mic Night had been Kira's idea from the beginning, so she was always thrilled when people actually showed up for it, even after a year.

In a small town like Beacon Hills, of course it was a success.

"Besides, I thought you said you liked this guy." Kira spoke distractedly, her eyes searching the crowd for Scott and Stiles as they walked inside.

"I only said that I thought he was nice."

"I'm pretty sure you also mentioned that his ass was nice in his uniform." Malia ran into someone out of shock at the fact that her best friend was saying (repeating) something like that, and Kira smirked mischievously.

Before Malia could retort, they found their friends standing up near the talent, a brother-sister based band called First Fires. They were playing a stripped version of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" that was actually not half bad. Kira always knew how to pick the good ones.

Kira and Scott kissed in greeting, instantly jumping into conversation, leaving Malia and Stiles pretty much alone yet again. They stood only a few inches apart, both because personal space was virtually nonexistent tonight and the music was so loud.

"You look nice," Stiles half-shouted into her ear, taking a sip from his mug. "How are you?"

"Currently going deaf," Malia responded, only half-joking as her eyes scanned the room. The lights had been dimmed, there was some kind of incense burning that smelled of lavender, and there were people everywhere, mostly young adults, but there were also some children and older people here and there. "I'm going to get a drink."

"I'll come with you."

Malia led him through the crowd to the counter, where an older woman she had never met before was working. Further away from the band, the music wasn't quite as loud and she could hear herself think again. "I bet the neighbors hate Friday nights."

"Yeah, I think I heard somewhere that they all moved away the second they heard that live shows were going to start being a regular thing," Stiles said, clearly kidding.

"You're kidding."

"I'm a police officer - I hear everything. I am the eyes and ears of this town."

Malia ordered hot tea, rolling her eyes at his response. "Are you ever serious? I didn't think police officers had a sense of humor." She handed the woman a five dollar bill and told her to keep the change.

"Ouch," Stiles said.

She smirked, looking away as the band started playing a song she'd never heard before. Okay, so maybe she had been overreacting. But how was she supposed to know that things would turn out this… well? Once again he was drawing her in, making her feel comfortable even though she barely knew anything about him.

"Tell me about yourself," she found herself saying after a minute, taking her mug of hot tea and emptying three packets of sugar into it. "Where did you grow up? Why did you want to become a police officer? I want the whole story."

"The whole story?" Stiles repeated, raising a brow.

Malia thought for a second. "Okay, you can skip the early years. Those only interest me if you have pictures," she laughed.

They talked for what felt like hours. Mostly Malia listened, but there were times when she couldn't help but interrupt - namely when he told her about how many times he had been picked up by his dad, the Sherriff ("You're a police officer and you've been arrested? Talk about irony!"), and how he'd never been in a serious relationship in his life ("You're kidding! But you're so… uh… I mean, that's crazy"). They connected when he told her about losing his mom when he was young, because she'd lost hers, too. But she refused to let them dwell on depressing topics, urging him to talk about becoming a police officer instead.

"…so it was really my dad who inspired me to do it," Stiles was saying. They were sitting in the back of the coffee shop, tucked into two old armchairs and totally oblivious to the fact that more than half of the crowd had left by then. "I hadn't really thought about what I wanted to do when I was a kid, but I was always involved in my dad's work anyway. I knew all of the codes, I even hacked into his police radio so I could keep up with everything."

"Sounds like fate to me," Malia decided, finishing off her now cold tea. Glancing around, she finally noticed the state of the shop.

Stiles was looking around now, too. "Well it looks like we've overstayed our welcome and our friends are nowhere to be found," he observed. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Malia stood up when he did, mid-stretch when he asked the question. She blinked, taking a moment to process. Her eyes widened slightly, her mind reeling. Was this really happening? Was this the moment? Did this mean that they actually _had_ been on a date? Where was Kira when she needed her?

She pulled out her phone, noting that it was half past ten and that she had no missed calls and no messages.

"Oh wow… I know what that sounded like, and I didn't mean to… I just meant… I was asking if I could walk you home?" Stiles stumbled over his words, speaking quickly, trying to correct himself over and over. It made her laugh how worried he had been, and she felt herself relax.

But as she looked at him longer, she realized that she didn't just want him to walk her home. She didn't want this night to end - they had been having such a good time.

Malia shrugged, picking up her jacket. "Sure," she told him, "but only if you stay for a drink."

—

By eleven thirty, one drink turned into three glasses of wine, courtesy of the bottle that Kira had bought Malia for her last birthday. The brunette leaned against the edge of the island in the kitchen, one hand bracing herself against the surface as she took another sip from her glass, the buzz from the alcohol already prominent.

Stiles stood in front of her, maybe a foot of space separating them. "Okay, it's your turn," he announced. Malia quirked a brow. "I told you my story, now you have to tell me yours."

"What makes you think I have one?" She teased.

"Because _everyone_ has a story. So, come on. Let's have it."

Malia bit her lower lip, considering. She'd already spent numerous hours alone with this guy, and knew practically all there was to know about him. He made her feel comfortable even before that, so there was no reason for her not to tell him _something_.

In fact, it was only fair, since he had done the same only a few hours before.

"Fine," she said, before launching into the riveting tale of her life and how it got to this point. She told him about her mom, about how she'd had a little sister, how she'd done gymnastics as a kid and how she'd always loved history and hated math in high school. She told him about how she'd tried being vegetarian for like a week, how she'd majored in biology in college, how she wanted to become a veterinarian, how she'd gotten her job at Greenberg's.

By the end of the story, she could see that Stiles was trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Malia demanded, tossing a cheese cube at him in disapproval.

"Nothing… I mean, I don't know, I can't really see you as a vegetarian, but otherwise, it was a good story. Ten out of ten. Would make a movie out of it."

She threw another cheese cube at him. "Liam was right - you _are_ an asshole."

"Hey! You're wasting perfectly delicious cheese," he said as he caught the next one she threw, popping it into his mouth. She laughed, taking another swig of her wine as she reached for another one. Stiles jumped and grabbed her arm before she could throw it, pinning it to the counter. "Don't even think about it."

"But I already am thinking about it, Coffee Boy," she challenged, her eyes never leaving his. "What are you gonna do about it?"

He didn't speak for a long moment, and with him so close, she could feel his breath, hot on her face. Her eyes only left his for a second, but they took in everything, from the way his hair _still_ looked like he'd just woken up, even now, to the way his lips looked so soft and inviting. Her mouth went dry and suddenly all she wanted was to find out if she was right, to run her fingers through his hair and crush her lips against his, but he didn't move an inch and she didn't breathe.

They stood there for a painfully long time, so long, in fact, that Malia just couldn't take it anymore and did the only thing she could think of.

She pulled her hand free and set her glass down, grabbing the front of his shirt and capturing his lips in hers. She barely heard his gasp of surprised, hardly cared as she felt his hands on her, gripping her hips and digging his fingertips into her sides. She exhaled hard through her nose, kissing him harder, deeper, relishing the feel of his body against hers as he pinned her to the counter.

Another full minute passed before they came up for air, breathing heavily, Malia's hands still grasping his shirt. She shook her head, but he spoke first. "Not exactly what I'd had in mind," he said with a breathless laugh, his eyes finding hers.

Malia didn't know what to say. Her blunt side told her that she wasn't sorry for what happened, because she had been wanting to do that since they'd left Greenberg's. But her rational side told her that she wasn't ready to jump in with both feet. Despite the fact that they had shared a lot with each other in the past couple of hours, she still had only known him for a grand total of _three days_.

"Look, we're still getting to know each other, right? Tonight was fun, _this_ was fun, but maybe we should leave it here for the night," Malia told him, her eyebrows raising slightly, hopeful that he'd understand.

"You're right. Besides, it's getting late," he finished off his glass of wine, before setting it down next to hers on the counter and smoothing his shirt. He turned to leave but stopped to kiss her chastely, slowly pulling away, making her insides tighten in longing. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She swallowed and nodded, and then he turned and disappeared out of the room, the sound of the front door opening the only indication that he was gone. Malia groaned loudly when she was finally alone, sliding down the side of the counter and sitting on the floor, burying her face in her hands.

What had she just gotten herself into?


	3. Surprises

**Chapter Three: Surprises**

Three days later and he still hadn't called.

She'd tried to tell herself that she didn't care _that_ much, that they'd only known each other for a few days and that things weren't _that_ serious yet. But it was like a nervous tick, an endless cycle; every few seconds she found her mind returning to her phone, her fingers finding the home button, and the same wave of disappointment washing over her all over again.

She'd almost thrown her phone - her very, very expensive iPhone - across the room on Sunday evening when, yet again, she had not received a call from him, but Kira had intervened just in time.

He'd said _tomorrow_. That was Friday. Today was Monday.

"Maybe he's busy," Kira offered as she towel dried a mug, shaking Malia from her reverie.

"Who cares?" Malia said flatly, shrugging as she continued to wipe down the tables and push in chairs. But even Kira could tell that she didn't really mean it, no matter how convincingly she had tried to say it.

"_You_ do. Hey, here's a fun idea, why don't you try calling him? Phones work both ways, you know."

Malia froze. She knew that, of course she did. But she couldn't give this guy the satisfaction of seeing her give in, of being the one to call first. Besides, what if there was a reason why he hadn't called her? What if he just wasn't that into her? What if he had already moved on to someone better, someone prettier?

"There's no one else, trust me," Kira insisted, reading the brunette's mind.

She heaved a sigh. "How do you know? We only went on _one_ sort of date and drunkenly made out in the kitchen. I don't think that's exactly a recipe for success."

Kira gave her a pointed look, her eyes shifting from Malia to something just out of her line of sight and back. "Well maybe if you used your eyes, maybe the answer would be right in front of you," she said cryptically, making Malia furrow her brows.

"What are you talking -" she stopped abruptly when she turned around and saw Stiles standing there in front of her. Her mouth falling open, she looked back at Kira only to find her friend wasn't paying attention anymore. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Okay, so you're definitely mad at me. But I can explain," Stiles said in that same, quickened tone that he always got when he was nervous, desperate. Malia swallowed but said nothing, waiting. "We were slammed at the station this weekend. I don't know if you noticed, but a lot went down and we busted a lot of people… but I guess that doesn't excuse the fact that I didn't call when I said I would. And I'm sorry. Like, really sorry. I even brought bagels."

Malia gave him a skeptical look, eying the brown bag he held in his hands. "Isn't it a little late for bagels?" She pointed out.

Stiles looked affronted. "It's never a bad time for bagels," he told her. "And besides, I heard from a little birdy that someone's favorite was the everything bagel. I don't know if that's true but…"

"Alright, fine, you got me," Malia replied, rolling her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "You get a table, I'll make us some coffee."

When Malia returned a few minutes later, she came bearing two mugs and two plates. Stiles had set up shop at a table near the window, a few feet away from a man who was typing away at his Macbook and talking to someone on the phone. Malia sat down, immediately getting a whiff of the delicious bagels as Stiles opened the bag. She waited patiently for him to place one on each plate, studying him in silence.

He looked tired, his eyes slightly red and his hair a little more disheveled than usual, and he was wearing his uniform. "So you _are_ playing hookie," she murmured, taking a sip of her coffee.

Stiles laughed, shaking his head. "I actually took the afternoon off. Kira told me she'd kill me if I didn't come over right away, and bring food. Lots of food."

"Food was a good call," Malia agreed, glancing back at the counter. Kira was busy chatting up a customer, explaining to them what the special of the day was. _Good_, she thought, _she's not trying to eavesdrop_. "But you didn't have to skip work for this. We could've talked after -"

"Well this isn't really what I came here for," Stiles said, gesturing to the bagels and coffee. He took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, mussing it more. "I mean - I did want to come and apologize in person because I was an asshole for not calling you - every time I had a second I stared at it, wondering what might happen if I did try, but it was too late and I always got pulled away before I could - I guess what I'm trying to say is that I also came here with the intention of asking you on a date." He exhaled, his eyes meeting hers expectantly. "So, would you go on a date with me, a poor, inconsiderate Coffee Boy?"

Malia felt a smile tug at her lips as she sipped on her coffee, considering his words. The fact that he had come all the way there in the middle of the day - albeit after being threatened by her best friend - bearing food and apologies made her quick to forgive him for not calling.

In fact, this was almost better. It was definitely worth the wait.

"Yes, Stiles," she said finally, pulling a chunk out of her bagel and popping it into her mouth. "I will go on a date with you. But only under the condition that you don't say you're gonna call, cause we know what happened last time…"

"Alright, alright fair enough," Stiles grinned, holding his right hand up. "You have my word. Scout's honor."

Malia quirked a brow. "You were a boy scout?"

"Yeah, until I accidentally burned down my tent on a camping trip. It was kind of a disaster," he grimaced at the memory, taking a sip of his coffee.

She snorted, taking another piece of bagel and eating it, her eyes full of amusement. Malia shook her head. "You're just full of crazy surprises, aren't you?" She said. "Speaking of which - what do you have in mind for our date?" It felt strangely… _good_ to hear the word roll off her tongue so casually.

Stiles smirked. "Well, like you said, I'm full of surprises."

"Crazy surprises," Malia corrected. She paused, waiting for him to speak again but he didn't say anything. "So you're really not going to tell me?"

He finished off his bagel and took another swig of his drink, shrugging. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see. Are you working tomorrow?" She nodded. "When?"

"Open to 4."

"Great. I'm picking you up at 7."

"God, you really are not giving anything away," Malia observed, leaning back in her chair. "This better be the best date I've ever been on in my life."

"Okay, no you're just being ridiculous."

"What, not up to the challenge?"

Stiles shook his head. "All I'm saying is that you'll be surprised. Take that how you will," he told her. Despite the fact that he was telling her nothing of interest about the date, she was excited. But she wasn't going to let him know that - she wanted him to think she was seriously skeptical about his date-planning abilities.

So she finished her coffee and stood, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I have to get back to work. Impromptu break is now over," Malia said finally.

"But we were having such a good time," Stiles protested, a mock pout on his lips. She couldn't help but get a little distracted; thoughts of Friday night came flooding into her head, and the sudden need to kiss him again was almost unbearable.

"You'll live," she laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She gathered up the dirty dishes and headed back to the counter, only looking back once to see him still smiling at her in a daze, before shaking his head and getting up to leave.

—

_"You're leaving me here to deal with this alone?" Malia demanded, gaping at her roommate as Kira hurried around the apartment._

_"Malia, you are 23 years old - you can handle getting ready for a date. You can handle anything. I, however, can't even handle organization. Have you seen my keys?"_

_The brunette let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes. "It's not the date I'm worried about," she insisted. "You know I'm seriously challenged when picking out what to wear. And this is one of those times when it is crucial that I don't look like a ten year old dressed me."_

_Kira dropped the seat cushion of the couch, standing up and looking around. She looked amazing, as always, in a shimmering black dress and red lipstick, her dark hair falling in a pin-straight curtain over her shoulders. Malia, on the other hand, had her hair up in a messy bun, and wore her favorite pair of knee-highs with shorts and an oversized 'Beacon Hills Community College' sweatshirt._

_That was how she always dressed, but she never found fault with it until she was in a position where she could not afford to look that way._

_"A-ha!" Kira shouted, finding her keys under a stack of mail on the kitchen counter. Then she turned to her friend. "Look, I'm already late so there's nothing I can do. I'm sure you'll be fine."_

_"But -" Malia started, but Kira was already running through the door, hastily shouting goodbye before disappearing._

Malia sat in the middle of her bedroom, clothes strewn all over the place, covering every surface, a mixture of not only her things but Kira's as well. She had on a pair of jeans and a lacy red bra, and groaned yet again as she tossed aside the blouse she had been considering just a moment before.

Picking out the right outfit for a date was already hard, but when it came to picking out the right outfit for a date _she knew nothing about_, well, she could have been sitting there all night.

That is, if the doorbell hadn't rang and made her get up.

Not even thinking twice about who it could be, Malia went straight for the door, unlocking and opening it to find Stiles standing on the other side. She just stood there in surprise for a moment, completely unaware of what time it was, before realizing that she wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Hi," she managed to say.

Stiles was trying and failing at hiding his amusement. "Hi." He said, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, if I'm early, I can just go back to my car and come back in like ten minutes…"

Malia rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "No, no it's my fault. Just come in already before the neighbors get a free show, too."

He laughed, obliging as he ducked inside and Malia quickly shut the door behind him. She hurried back to her bedroom, and in about two minutes flat she had thrown on a semi-sheer, loose black tank top, matching heels, and let her hair down from its bun. When she returned to the living room, she found Stiles toying with the abstract figurine that they had on the stand in their entryway.

"Kira made that her senior year of college," Malia explained, making Stiles jump, almost knocking it over. He caught it, returning it to its place on the table, sliding his hands hastily into his pockets. She smirked. "She was an art and design major."

"You two live together, right?" He asked, taking a step away from the table as she approached him.

She nodded, grabbing her clutch and checking to make sure everything was in it. Wallet, chapstick, keys, phone. "Yeah. She's on a date with Scott tonight. I think they went to a concert… or dinner… maybe both?" Malia shrugged. "Do you wanna go now? I think I've kept you waiting long enough."

"I don't know, I was starting to like it here…"

"Stiles!" Malia knew what he was doing. Stalling. But after a long day of wondering what exactly he had planned for her tonight, she couldn't wait a second longer.

He laughed finally as she grabbed her coat, holding his hands up defensively and moving towards the door. "Alright, sorry, let's go."


	4. Slow

**Chapter Four: Slow**

"How am I doing?"

Malia quirked a brow, watching as Stiles tossed one multicolored ring after another at the empty milk bottles, each one missing just by a few centimeters. Each time he ran out, he shoved another five dollars into the game attendant's hand, insisting that_ this time_ he'd do better.

But as another ring skims the rim of a bottle, she can _sense_ his temper reaching its peak.

"Um, you _do_ know that you're supposed to get the rings on the bottles, right?" Malia inquired, her gaze shifting between the game and her date. He tossed another one, missed the next bottle, and she'd decided she'd seen enough. "Give me those."

"I didn't mean at the game," Stiles corrected as he reluctantly stepped to the side, letting her take over. She tossed the rings without much effort, each one landing on one of the center bottles. "Speaking of which, how did you do that?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's all in the wrist."

A few minutes later, they were walking away with a huge stuffed dog that _kind of_ looked like a wolf if you squinted. "Don't look so smug," he told her.

"I can't help that I'm better than you at carnival games," Malia retorted, her smile teasing. "Don't worry, you can attempt to win me something at the next one. I just didn't want you to keep having to make a fool of yourself -"

"I wasn't doing _that_ bad!"

"You were!"

They were both laughing now, and after Stiles shook his head, he said, "Okay, whatever. Let's just forget about how much I suck for a second so I can know, once and for all, if you're having a good time."

Malia looked around for a moment, taking it all in. She'd never been to a carnival before, but she was glad that she got to spend her first one with him; he was certainly making an effort to make it memorable, even when he wasn't doing it on purpose.

Finally, she grinned, nodding. "Yes. I'm having a great time tonight. I didn't even know that carnivals came to towns this small."

"Beacon Hills isn't _that_ small," he said, and she responded with a skeptical look. "Seriously - you don't really realize it until you're forced to look at the big picture. It's one of the perks of being a part of the police force."

"So there's nothing you hate about it? Your job, I mean." Malia looked at him then, her gaze curious. "You never wanted to be anything else?"

"Never," Stiles told her matter-of-factly. "I love everything about my job. It's not much right now, but it's a process. You can't just show up your first day ever and all of a sudden be the sheriff, you know?" He chuckled, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I think what I like the most, though, is the coffee runs. Sometimes I even get to see this cute little barista - sometimes she even _talks_ to me."

Malia rolled her eyes, unable to hide her flattered smile. "Shut up."

"What? It's true. Highlight of my day, every day," Stiles replied, unashamed. "So what about you? I can't imagine your lifelong dream was to serve people their morning coffee everyday."

"How do you know? Maybe I like the thrill of not knowing whether or not I'm going to burn my hand on the steam from the coffee maker. It gives me a rush," she smirked, before shaking her head. "No, the job at Greenberg's was kind of a last minute cry for help. I always wanted to be a veterinarian."

"What happened?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, what always happens. Things didn't work out. Loans piled up. Life smacked me in the face and I was forced to do what needed be done before I could do what I _wanted_." Malia brushed her hair out of her face. "I also really hated science."

"Maybe it's not too late. You could always go back to school."

"Yeah, maybe," Malia mused. "You wouldn't happen to have a couple thousand dollars lying around, would you?" She gave him a wry smile as he laughed, shaking his head. "Didn't think so. It was a nice thought, though."

"You never know, something could happen. In a few years I could be turning on the news and hearing about you saving a whole litter of puppies or teaching cats to talk."

It was Malia's turn to laugh now. "You're crazy," she told him, a grin plastered to her face as her eyes caught the enormous ferris wheel looming above them now. "I think this is the only ride we haven't been on yet."

"Saved the best for last," Stiles said, offering her his arm. "Come on."

—

When she closed her eyes almost an hour later, she could still feel the wind on her face, could still smell the deep-fried food and hear all of the people having fun. She wasn't likely to forget any of that anytime soon.

If she were being honest with herself, it really had been one of the best dates she'd been on in a long time.

"What are you thinking about?" Stiles inquired once they came to a stop outside her door. Time always passed so much more quickly at the end of the night, when you didn't want it to, she thought. "You've just been quiet for a while, so…"

"Just trying to weigh in on all of the other dates I've been on," Malia said, biting her lip and pretending to _really_ consider. "But I'm pretty sure that this one has to be the best."

"Really? I mean, I wasn't sure between the wild, enthusiastic screaming at the top of the ferris wheel and you getting cotton candy on my nose," Stiles teased, before rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and grimacing slightly. "Yeah, it's still sticky. Thanks."

Malia rolled her eyes, pulling out her keys. "Oh, don't be such a baby."

"I resent that," Stiles told her, shaking his head. "I wouldn't have this problem if you knew not to play with your food -"

"What are you implying?"

"That maybe next time we shouldn't go anywhere that involves _eating_," he replied, laughing.

Malia quirked a brow, turning to face him fully. "So you're saying that I haven't totally ruined my chances by getting you all dirty?"

Stiles shook his head, before tilting his head and closing the space between them, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss. His lips were warm and soft,_ just how she remembered. _She inhaled through her nose, catching a mixture of his cologne and the sweetness of the cotton candy, still lingering on him, though not unappealing.

When he pulled away after a moment, their noses brushed ever so slightly, his eyes opening slowly, meeting hers. "That is exactly what I'm saying."

She nodded, understanding completely, as she unlocked the door to her apartment and walked inside, tossing the stuffed animal onto the couch in the living room. When she noticed that he still hesitated just outside, she kicked off her shoes, giving him an expectant look. "Well?" Malia said, shrugging off her jacket. "You coming, or what?"

He didn't need to be asked twice.

"What are you doing?" It was the only thing that Stiles could manage to say, watching Malia peel off her tank top as he shut the door.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Malia murmured, meeting him halfway and running her hands down his chest. He tried to keep his eyes on her face, but every part of him desperately wanted to lower them, to get lost in how perfect she looked now, standing half naked in front of him.

Stiles swallowed, licking his suddenly dry lips. "I thought you wanted to take things slow."

She nuzzled his neck with her nose, breathing in his scent again, dragging her lips across his skin and up to the shell of his ear. "Well I changed my mind," she purred, and that - mixed with the feeling of her lips on him, her hot breath on his neck - was enough to get him moving.

He grabbed her hips, his mouth catching hers on its way down his jaw, pressing her back against the edge of the couch. She gasps, one leg locked around his legs, her fingers gripping his shirt, grasping at the fabric and dragging it up until they broke up apart just long enough to rid him of it.

His hands ghosted over her skin and down her back to grasp her behind, lifting her effortlessly and making her wrap her legs around his waist. She couldn't help the way her muscles tightened deep down as she marveled at his strength; it wasn't really a surprise, considering being a police officer required some physical fitness, but it was _hot _knowing that he could just pick her up like that, making her helpless to his every whim.

However, right now Malia had other plans.

Sliding down from the back of the couch where she had previously been perched, she hooked her fingers into the belt loops of his khakis, tugging firmly as she backed down the hallway to her bedroom. They were only halfway there when his arm slid around her waist, pulling her against him again, skin on skin, hot and heavy. He had her against the wall now, his hands skimming the bare skin of her sides, pulling down the cup of one side her bra as his lips left her mouth and moved down, capturing one nipple, sucking until it hardened before moving to do the same to the other side.

"_Stiles_," she whined, her eyes rolling back as his hand moved lower and lower. He unbuttoned her jeans and slipped his hand inside, rubbing her _there_ with just enough force and friction to make her legs shake in protest.

She tried to will herself to think straight, to move just two feet to her left and get them into her bedroom, but he applied more pressure and she was lost to the sensation, warmth blossoming deep in her core. The only thing she could do was get her hands on his neck, returning his mouth to hers, kissing him long and hard. But then she heard the familiar click of a key turning in the lock and -

"Shit!" Malia said, grabbing Stiles by the wrist of the hand halfway down her jeans and dragging him down the hallway after her without a second thought. They slipped into her bedroom just before the front door opened, the door shutting quietly in their wake.

—

When Malia woke up the next morning, she was tangled up in the sheets of her bed, wearing nothing but an oversized sleep shirt… and totally alone.

She sat up, running her fingers through her unruly, bedridden hair and looking around, but there was no real evidence of the events of the night before. Malia started to think that it had all been in her head, but then she noticed the stuffed dog propped up against the pillows next to her on the bed.

Smiling, she picked up the note that was sitting on it.

_I hope I didn't wake you. Had to be in at work. Last night was amazing. (The sex, too.) I look forward to seeing you again soon. -Stiles._

Malia was still grinning when the door to her bedroom suddenly swung open, Kira standing in the doorway. She tossed Malia's discarded jacket and shirt at the brunette, a smirk on her lips.

"_Don't_." Malia warned.

"I wasn't going to say anything, but _you_ are," she informed her. "Hurry up and get dressed. I'm starving and I want to know everything." When Malia didn't move, Kira shook her head. "_Before_ I have to go into work."

The brunette laughed, scooting out from under the covers and shooing her friend. "Alright, alright I'm going. See? Up. Moving." she insisted, before grabbing a pillow and tossing it at Kira. "Just get _out_ already!"


	5. Chances

**Chapter Five: Chances**

She'd never been so _invested_ in someone before in her life.

Looking back, Malia could barely remember the last time she had had an actual boyfriend, due to her inability to allow herself to slow down enough to get serious. College had been one drunken hook up after another, with no real intention of following up the next time she ran into them; high school had been too busy, and her dad had been _very_ clear about his no-boys-in-the-house rule.

So this was her only real opportunity to allow herself to get close to another person, to let herself get comfortable and be vulnerable.

Stiles brushed her hair out of her face then, bringing her back to the now. Malia was curled up on the couch next to him, his arm around her and her head on his shoulder, the sound of _CSI: Miami_ on television filling the room.

"What are you doing next Thursday?" He asked as a commercial for some mattress store came on the TV.

Malia furrowed her brows for a second, trying to think of her schedule. "Uh, as far as I know… nothing? I have the week off." She craned her neck so she could look at him. "Why?"

"We're having a Christmas party down at the station that night," Stiles explained. "And I was wondering if you'd be my date."

"Oh, wait, now that you mention it, I think I _do_ have something…" she trailed off, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her eyes caught the look of disappointment on his face, color rising in his cheeks, and she started laughing. Malia wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him as she slid into his lap. "_Of course_ I'll go with you."

Stiles exhaled in relief. "Good. I had half a mind to get up and go cry into a tub of ice cream for a second there."

Malia rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Don't be so dramatic," she told him, before pulling him into another kiss, long and slow, wordlessly assuring him that he would always come first.

—

The Beacon Hills Police Station was so elaborately decorated that it was almost _cheesy_. Everything was covered in tinsel, fake snow, twinkle lights or all of the above, the front counter offered snacks - including Christmas tree, ornament, and candy cane shaped cookies, as well as a variety of beverages.

But overall, Malia was having a great time.

"Dad, I'd like you meet my girlfriend, Malia," Stiles was saying to an older man with gray hair that looked a lot like him.

Malia eyed Stiles discreetly, trying to read his expression but it gave nothing away. Sure, they had established exclusivity, but she'd never heard him call her _that_ before. _Girlfriend_. She was so mesmerized by the way the word rolled off his tongue so naturally that she almost forgot that they were talking to his dad.

She cleared her throat, extending her hand. "Mr. Stilinski," she said to him. "It's nice to meet you."

"Stiles, when you told me you had a girlfriend I was skeptical, but I guess seeing is believing," said the older man, chuckling before looking to Malia again. "Between you and me, he never really had any luck with women before, so seeing him with you is a dream come true -"

"_Dad_," Stiles warned, his eyes wide as he placed a hand protectively on Malia's lower back. She took a sip of her wine, trying to suppress her amusement. "I told you not to embarrass me tonight."

"Did you? Must've slipped my mind," his dad grinned, before clapping his son on the shoulder. "Oh, lighten up, son. It's kind of my job."

Malia smiled as they continued their banter, only half listening now as she took in the rest of the party. There were people everywhere, most of which she didn't really recognize, talking and laughing and spreading the holiday cheer.

If it hadn't been for Stiles, she might have been curled up on the couch in her apartment watching re-runs of _Man vs Food_ and spooning Nutella out of the container. Not that that was a bad thing, it was just nice to be able to get out and have a life, instead of living vicariously through Kira and Scott.

As she continued to survey the room, Malia's eyes found the two people she hadn't expected to see. Her brows furrowing, she excused herself from Stiles and his father, making a beeline for where the two stood by the cookies. "What are you doing here?" Malia asked, looking amused as Scott shoved a whole candy cane cookie into his mouth. "Is Scott a police officer too?"

"Oh, no, he works at the pizza place by our apartment," Kira explained, before waving at Stiles across the room. "We came for moral support."

"Moral support for what?" Malia inquired, her confusion clear.

"Every year at the Christmas party they give out special awards and gifts and stuff," Scott told her. "Apparently this year is supposed to be _really_ special."

Kira perked up then, looking towards the front of the room. "Oh, I think they're starting."

Stiles' dad called everyone to attention, bringing the conversations around the room down to quiet murmurs as he cleared his throat. "I hate giving speeches, but I have to do it every year, so what the hell," he was saying, causing a ripple of laughter to spread through the room.

He spoke about the department, about everything they had accomplished in the past year, about the bad things and the good. He even recognized a long list of people that Malia had never seen or heard of before, but she clapped politely along with everyone else, sipping on her wine until she needed a refill.

But the cheer only lasted momentarily, the mood suddenly shifting as the sheriff's tone grew somber.

"As many of you already know, I will be retiring this year," he told them, causing a lot of dates to gasp in surprise and start whispering to their neighbors. Malia looked at Kira; her eyes were wide in surprise. "Oh, calm down, it's not the end of the world. In fact," he continued, "we've already chosen someone who is more than capable of keeping the department in one piece when I'm gone. Jordan Parrish, get the hell up here."

Everyone looked around - even Malia, who had no idea who this guy was - before bursting into a round of applause, many of the officers hollering and patting him on the back as he made his way to the front of the room. He was tall and handsome and looked way too young to be a _sheriff_.

It was only then that she felt a hand at her back, and found Stiles sliding into place next to her, nursing a beer in his opposite hand. Malia leaned towards him, whispering, "Who is he?"

"Parrish? Oh, he's been working here for more than a decade. He's been on top of his game since the very beginning, takes his job pretty seriously. Which I guess is probably why he was chosen to succeed my dad," Stiles explained, taking a swig of his beer.

"You don't sound happy for him," Malia pointed out.

He shot her a look, rolling his eyes. "Of course I'm happy for him. He's a great guy. Honest." Stiles pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head.

She decided not to press the matter further, realizing only then that his dad was still talking. Malia settled in, making herself pay attention to him and not the way his suit jacket smelled so good, like the cologne he wore mixed with the musky scent of his aftershave.

—

"Stiles, seriously, what are we doing?"

Malia was never opposed to a little sneaking around, but this was kind of ridiculous. They were in the sheriff's office with the shades drawn, the only source of light coming from the street lamp outside the window. Her heels clicked on the tile as she walked over to the desk, perching herself on the edge and eying him carefully.

"I needed to be alone with you for a few minutes and no, it couldn't wait," Stiles told her as her eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Well what was so urgent then?" Malia asked, wrapping her arms around his neck once he was close enough to her, tilting her head to the side expectantly.

She half expected him to make out with her, but instead he reached into his pocket, pulling out a slim velvet jewelry box. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked from the box to him, not sure what to make of what she was seeing. And then he opened it, and inside was a beautiful silver bracelet inlaid with diamonds.

She couldn't breathe.

"Stiles…"

"I know that Christmas isn't until Saturday, but I couldn't wait that long," he said, brushing her hair out of her face, his fingers grazing her skin. "I couldn't wait to see the look on your face when I gave it to you."

Malia exhaled, tearing her eyes away from the box in her hands now and looking up at him. She didn't say anything, and as the seconds passed his excitement shifted to nervousness to worry. She could see each emotion as it passed, and wanted so badly to say something, _anything_, but words escaped her.

This on top of hearing him call her his girlfriend - it was all too much. It was more than she'd ever had before, but it was everything she hadn't known she'd wanted until now.

"What do you think?" Stiles managed to ask. "I mean, if you don't like it I can take it back and you can -" He was cut off by her lips capturing his in a kiss, her arms sliding back around his neck, pulling him towards her. It was a full minute before she pulled away again, shaking her head.

"I love it, Stiles," Malia told him, biting her lip. "It's so beautiful. I can't believe you got me something like this."

A smile spreading across his lips, he slid a hand behind her neck, pulling her back in to kiss her again, slow and deep. When they parted this time, she was breathless. "I'm crazy about you, Malia, so you better start believing it," he murmured, his eyes hooded and dark, his lips pink, inviting.

He helped her put the bracelet on, the light catching it as he turned it around to face the right way. She couldn't stop staring at him as he worked, thinking about just how lucky she was to have met such an amazing guy. Thinking about how she wasn't about to let him get away any time soon.

"We should probably head back," he said finally with a heavy sigh, starting to straighten up.

But her hand caught his wrist, pulling him back.

"The party can wait," she breathed, and before he had a chance to say anything in response, her mouth was claiming his again.

She parted her legs so that he could come closer, her dress hiking up her thighs with the help of his hands on her, running up the bare skin of her upper thighs, running over the curve of her hips as he worked his way up her body. She kissed him deeper, his tongue invading her mouth, tasting of beer and sugar and faintly of the toothpaste he'd used that morning.

She was all sensation; thoughts of them making out in his father's office, the feel of his erection rubbing against her inner thigh, the heat of his mouth on hers, his hands on her hips urgent and unrelenting – it was a heady mixture, almost overwhelming. _Almost_.

"And here, I want to show you where you'll be working…"

Malia's eyes snapped open, and suddenly every bit of need was forgotten, replaced by fear. "Oh, shit. That's your dad."

"He's not going to come in here," Stiles insisted, his mouth moving along her jaw, kissing down her neck. She let herself be reminded of just how badly she wanted him for a second, before putting a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Look," she said, suddenly breathless. "As much as I want you to take me right here on his desk, this is probably not the _best_ time." Malia glanced up, seeing the shadows moving on the other side of the door. "He's definitely coming in here."

Stiles sighed, pecking her on the lips one final time, stepping back so she could stand up again. Malia adjusted her dress, but there was nothing she could do about the color in her cheeks. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the door, cracking it open and slipping past the sheriff while his back was turned, heading for the front of the building.

She felt eyes on them, but didn't stop to look back.


	6. Promises

**Chapter 6: Promises**

When she woke up suddenly, she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She hadn't been having a nightmare, and it wasn't because he wasn't lying next her since she was used to sleeping alone. It was still dark out, the faintest glow of morning just illuminating the room through the curtains.

Malia sat up slowly, looking around the dark room until she noticed him standing over by the dresser, putting on his watch. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, taking in his appearance as her eyes started to adjust. He wore a suit, his badge hanging on a chain around his neck. Her brows furrowed.

"Did I wake you?" Stiles asked, moving over to the bed.

"No, no… what's going on?" Malia replied, her eyes confused as he sat down next to her, his eyes leaving her face. She put her hand on his cheek, turning his head so he looked at her again. "Stiles, I want to know."

He swallowed, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "The station called." He said finally, his voice low. "They had good news and bad news. Good news, I've been promoted to detective. It was a hasty decision, but they think I've been working really hard and decided to give me a shot at it."

Malia tucked her legs underneath her, a smile spreading across her lips. "That's great! Oh my God, Stiles, that's _amazing_." She paused, remembering that he had more to say. "But… what's the bad news?"

"They're transferring me. To the next county over. I told them I didn't want to go, but it was kind of a 2-in-1 deal and… and I couldn't just say _no_. Not to something like this." He was wringing his hands, not looking at her again. Malia removed her hand slowly, the news finally hitting her.

Her mouth hung open slightly when she realized what this meant. She shut her eyes, willing herself to keep it together, to keep her voice even, to keep the tears at bay.

She licked her lips. "How long?"

"I don't know," he said, exhaling heavily, running his hands over his face. "They're working on a big case. It could be a couple of days, it could be weeks…"

Malia was out of the bed then, so fast that Stiles seemed surprised that she could move so fast.

She didn't say anything, just ran around the room in a sudden hurry, grabbing her clothes, trying to think. But all she could think of was how she had to get out, had to get some air.

She couldn't breathe.

"Malia, come on," Stiles insisted, on his feet now, too, hesitating at first to touch her until he realized that she wasn't listening anymore. "Malia." He grabbed her arm, making her stop. When her eyes found his face, he had a pained expression there, a sadness in his eyes that mirrored what she felt deep inside.

She choked back a sob. "You're leaving," she finally managed to say.

He brushed her hair out of her face, his thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks, catching a stray tear as it slipped free from her eye. "I'll be back," he murmured, before pulling her toward him, wrapping his arms around her. Stiles pressed his lips to her hair, his hands squeezing her slightly,

"I promise."

For a moment, she let herself believe that things would be okay. He said he would come back, so it should have been, right? But the second he released her, she felt the weight again, like her world was crashing down around her.

Malia pulled on her jeans, shoving her feet into her shoes without looking at him. "I'm gonna be late for work," she said simply, before turning and leaving, grabbing her purse on the way out.

—

"You didn't even say goodbye?"

Kira was staring at her, wide-eyed and concerned - Malia sighed, forcing a tight smile while she rang up the next customer. She hadn't intended on telling her, but the expression that had been on her face when she'd shown up that morning had given it all away.

The brunette scribbled the customer's order onto a cup with her marker, setting it down on the counter before turning on the coffee maker. "It's -"

"Don't say 'it's nothing' because we both know that's not true," Kira told her, pressing her lips together. "You told me yourself that it felt like the world had stopped on its axis when he told you he was leaving. Why did you just run out of there?"

"Because I wasn't ready to say it, okay?" Malia snapped, turning on her friend. "Look," she sighed, "for all we know he's long gone by now and I won't have another chance. What's done is done."

Kira looked at Malia for a long moment in silence, her eyes full of sympathy. Then she looked away, and almost instantly straightened up.

"I wouldn't be so sure…"

Malia looked up then, her eyes finding Stiles, standing in front of her on the other side of the counter. Even though she'd just seen him a few hours ago, he looked somehow different. His eyes were red, his hair messy, like he'd been running his fingers through it too many times.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "What are you doing here?"

"Can we talk?"

"I'm working…"

Stiles looked at Kira, who came to life as if on cue, shooing Malia out from behind the counter and insisting that she could take it from there. Having no choice, Malia followed Stiles across the room.

"Stiles, unless you're going to say that they've changed their mind about sending you away, I don't think I want to know what you have to say," she said.

He exhaled. "No, they didn't say that," he admitted, and she started to turn away, only to be pulled back by his hand on her arm. "Malia, I couldn't stand leaving things the way they had ended this morning. I don't want you to think that I'm abandoning you. I'm coming back, I _swear_."

Malia shook her head. "But what if it's not just a few weeks? What if they ask you to stay longer? What if you get hurt - or worse?" She swallowed again. "How can you promise me something like that when even you don't know what could happen?"

"Don't think about that. Think about the good, not the bad. Think about us," Stiles insisted, his hands on her face now, making her look at him. "I can promise you that because… well, I love -"

She pressed a finger to his lips, her gaze growing serious. "Don't. I want you to promise me something else," Malia told him. "You can only tell me that when you come back to me." She sighed. "Not a second before."

"_When_," he repeated, his voice quiet.

"Well, you wanted me to think of the good," she replied, letting him slide his arms around her waist. "Don't make me regret it."

Stiles smiled, kissing her long and slow, memorizing the feel of her lips against his. It was a long moment before she let him release her, and then he was gone again. But something had changed - the weight was lifted, but the worry was still there.

—

Malia didn't have to look up to know that her best friend was staring at her. She poked around her plate with her fork uninterestedly, pushing around a few fries as her eyes flitted to her phone where it lie at her elbow. But no matter how many times she willed it to, it never rang.

After a long minute, Kira finally sighed. "Alright, we've been here for an hour and you still haven't eaten a thing."

"He still hasn't called," Malia said flatly, stabbing a french fry and taking a pointed bite out of it in the hopes that Kira would drop the concern. Her darker-haired counterpart leaned back in her seat, shaking her head.

"Haven't we already established that phones work two ways? And that Stiles is an idiot when it comes to calling you," Kira offered a small smile. "Besides, it's only been two days. He'll contact you soon. Everything's probably just busy -"

"You don't know that," Malia retorted.

Kira rolled her eyes. "You're right, I don't. But unlike _you_, I like to see the best in most situations."

At that moment, the owner of the coffee shop, Bobby Finstock, came in, mumbling something to himself as he brushed the snow off of his coat. He noticed the two of them sitting there only a few seconds later.

His eyes found Malia, and he said, "You look like shit."

"It's nice to see you, too, Bobby," Malia muttered, setting her fork down. "What are you doing here? It's New Year's Eve -"

"I had to get out of the house. I'm surprised this place is still open - I thought we were closed on New Year's Eve." Finstock said, looking around. Malia and Kira exchanged a look.

Kira cleared her throat. "Uh, no, we're open pretty much everyday. You're the one who said being closed on holidays was 'a load of crap.'"

Finstock narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering for a second if she was sassing him, but after a moment he realized that he probably had said that at some point and let it go. "Well if that's the case, what're you two doing sitting around? Be useful and get me a coffee."

Kira started to stand up, but Malia was faster. "No, I'll do it." Despite how crass their boss could be, she was glad for the distraction. She didn't know how much longer she could stand sitting there under Kira's watchful, concerned gaze.

Besides, she needed to do something other than stare at her phone. One more minute of him _not_ calling and she'd probably explode.

As Malia walked across the shop to the counter, she noticed that Finstock had sat down in one of the armchairs, pulling a rolled up newspaper out of the inside of his coat. Her eyes caught the headline on the front page when he opened it - something about increases in crime rates around Beacon Hills. She swallowed, trying not to think anything of it as she grabbed a mug from the cabinet and turning on the coffee machine.

But it wasn't that easy.

"Can you believe these idiot journalists think that some organized crime is being committed by professionals? You know what I think?" Finstock said, talking out loud to no one in particular. "I think it's probably a bunch of teenagers with nothing better to do."

"Yeah," Kira murmured as she cleared the table that her and Malia had been sitting at. "Probably." She glanced at her friend, but Malia made a point not to meet her gaze.

"Two police officers have been shot since last week," Finstock shook his head, a frown on his face. "They've really gotta get better people out there. Is _everyone_ a goddamn teenager these days?" Malia could feel the blood drain out of her face. The mug in her hand slipped, but luckily Liam appeared then, back from his break, and caught it.

He furrowed his brows. "You okay?"

Malia blinked, returning from a dark place deep inside her head. She just stared at Liam for a second, before shaking her head. "I need to make a phone call," she told him quickly. "Can you get Mr. Finstock his coffee? Thanks." She didn't wait for him to respond, before slipping past him and heading for the door, grabbing her phone off of the table on her way out.


	7. Alright

**Chapter 7: Alright**

_It had been ringing too long. _

_Ten seconds, twenty, thirty… For almost an entire minute the phone rang, and for almost an entire minute Malia stood there with her heart in her throat, thinking not of the fact that it was below 30 degrees and snowing and how she had forgotten her coat, not of the fact that she was still on the clock at work._

_All she could think of was him. Stiles._

_The answering machine picked up, and she immediately hung up the phone and hit redial. She didn't know how long she'd stood there, had no idea how many times she'd called him. But she knew one thing – she needed to talk to him. She needed to hear his voice, know that he was doing fine._

_She barely heard the door to the shop open, hardly registered Kira standing next to her. But she knew what her friend would say before she said it._

"_Come inside, Malia, please," she told her, worry evident in her voice. "He'll call back. I'm sure of it."_

_Malia shut her eyes, trying to focus only on the sound of the dialtone, of the ringing. She couldn't stand not knowing for sure; she couldn't listen to Kira every time she told her that everything would be alright in her calm tone._

_Everything was __**not**__ alright._

"_Malia –"_

_The brunette hung up the phone once more, her hands shaking – not from the cold, but from the urgency, the fear. She spun on her heel, breezing past her friend and back into the shop, but she only planned on staying momentarily. Malia bristled at the sound of laughter from a small group near the front as she passed, grabbing her coat off the hook behind the counter and pulling it on without a moment's hesitation._

"_Where are you going? Malia?" Kira's words were like an echo in her mind, distant and hard to focus on. The brunette didn't say a word to her, just walked right past her and out the door again._

Malia slammed the door to her car, not bothering to lock it as she headed straight for the building in front of her. The Beacon Hills Police Department looked almost deserted, save for a few cars in the front and a light on inside, but she wasn't about to let that discourage her.

She went inside, running her fingers through her already disheveled hair, looking around. About thirty seconds passed before she heard someone clear their throat, getting her attention.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Malia looked at the woman sitting behind the front desk for a long moment before managing to find the right words she wanted to say. "I need to see Sheriff Parrish."

"Well, he's currently busy, but if you'd like to wait here –"

She was only half-listening, her eyes finding the door to his office at the back of the station, her feet moving before the woman had even finished speaking. She heard her protests, calling after her to 'stop' and 'wait' but she kept going until she was pushing open the door to Parrish's office without even knocking, finding him sitting at his desk, speaking to someone on the phone.

When he saw her, he started to stand up. "Uh, Richard, I'm gonna have to call you back," he told the person on the phone, before hanging up and looking at Malia. "Can I help you?"

"Stiles. Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski," Malia blurted out. "I want to know where he is and why. I need you to tell me everything."

"Um… can you start by telling me who you are?" Parrish asked, his eyebrows pulling together as he moved around to the front of his desk, folding his arms across his chest as he eyed her, trying to read her in a matter of seconds.

"I'm his girlfriend and I haven't heard from him in almost a week," she explained.

He nodded slowly. "Okay, okay I see. Well, the next town over was having some trouble getting things under control so they asked for our help. I asked for volunteers and –"

"Volunteers?" Malia sounded horrified.

"Mostly volunteers," Parrish corrected. "Some of the deputies – including Stilinski – were given an opportunity, as I'm sure he told you. A chance to prove themselves, if you will."

Malia remembered what Stiles had told her about him being promoted to detective, and how he had had no choice but to take the temporary transfer in order to keep the title. She frowned. "So you're saying that if he hadn't gone to that town to help out… he wouldn't have gotten the promotion?"

Parrish sighed, shaking his head. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I gave Stiles the promotion weeks ago, a few days after I had been appointed sheriff." He told her. "This was just his first chance to really put himself to the test, show us if giving him that title was the right choice."

"Okay, then how has he been doing so far?"

"Look, I don't care who you are – that's not something I can discuss with you –"

"Fine, whatever," Malia shot back, waving off his words dismissively. "Just tell me he's okay. You get reports everyday, don't you? You probably expect them to keep you up to date with everything that goes on. You've got to know _something_."

Parrish looked at her for a long time, considering. She really did seem desperate for information, and he wasn't the type to be cold hearted and kick someone out. He sighed, straightening up.

"I spoke to someone yesterday," Parrish finally said. "So far, things have still been a little hectic. I'm sure you've seen the news reports. But as far as I know our guys are doing fine." He glanced up over her shoulder, and then something changed. "Look, if I hear anything about Stilinski, I'll let you know. I promise. But I can't do anything for you now."

Malia followed his gaze, looking behind her to find a pretty redhead standing in the doorway. She was holding two take-out boxes and smelled like Thai food. "Sorry to interrupt…"

"No, it's okay, Lydia. We were just finishing up," Parrish assured her with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm leaving now," Malia murmured, before turning and starting to leave.

But as she moved, he added, "I'll call you when I find out more. What was your name again?"

She stopped, swallowing. "It's Malia. Malia Tate," she said, before quickly heading out of his office. His words should have made her feel better – if she could trust anyone to tell her what was going on, it should have been him – but she still felt sick.

Malia had no idea how long she'd been sitting by the window, watching the snowflakes flutter by on their way down to the ground far below, glittering in the light from the street lamp. She hugged her knees to her chest, ignoring the mug sitting on the table next to her, still full of cold, long-forgotten tea.

She was so lost in thought that she jumped when she heard someone cry out suddenly, the sound of someone colliding with a solid object bringing her back to reality.

"Sorry," they said, and Malia let out a sigh of relief when she realized that it was just Scott. He was spending the night – something he didn't do often, so it still kind of surprised her to see him wearing pajama pants and walking around barefoot in her living room. "I was trying to be quiet… I was really hungry and gonna grab something from the kitchen – are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I just couldn't sleep," Malia said almost too fast, standing up and grabbing her mug.

She could feel Scott's eyes on her as she walked past him and into the kitchen, and knew almost instantly that he didn't believe her. "Alright, we both know that I know what you know." Scott paused, shaking his head. "Okay, that made no sense. I know that Stiles is gone and that he hasn't called. I haven't heard from him either, actually."

Malia stopped in her tracks, the cogs in her mind working again. That didn't make any sense. He hadn't called his girlfriend and he hadn't called his best friend? Something wasn't right.

"I wish I knew what was going on, Malia, I really do," he sighed, leaning his hands onto the island in the middle of the room. "But everyone's being really tight-lipped about it all. All I know is it's a big case and they're close to cracking it." He rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should have finished police school after all."

She turned to face him then, setting the mug on the counter. "Why didn't you?" Malia asked, grateful for the temporary distraction.

"I don't know – wasn't for me? Stiles was always better at figuring things out, the way that the police do," he explained, shrugging. "I dropped out. Got my degree and started working odd jobs here and there, trying to find something I really loved."

"Which has been your favorite one so far?" She inquired.

Scott thought for a second, before smiling fondly. "Animal clinic."

Malia laughed, shaking her head and dumping the cold tea down the sink, not expecting his answer. "Good choice," she told him. "Well, I think I'm gonna try and sleep now. Enjoy your snacks."

"I will," he said as she started heading out of the room. "Hey." She stopped, looking back. "Don't give up hope. He really liked you, you know. He wouldn't just leave you behind."

She bit her lip and nodded, trying not to let him see the tears that were forming in her eyes. She turned and headed down the hallway to her room, shutting the door behind her and leaning back against it for a second, taking a deep breath. One glance at the clock on her nightstand told her that it was half past three in the morning, and that she _really_ needed to get some sleep.

But she was frozen, there against the door, her mind reeling.

Malia was just so tired of hearing people tell her that everything was going to be alright. It was almost as if they were saying that her worrying was irrational, and that was almost like a slap in the face.

Of course she wanted to believe that everything would be alright, but every bone in her body was against that. She didn't know when or how, but she had fallen hard for him somewhere along the way, and that had just caused her nothing but pain for the past few days. She just wanted to know something, anything, be it good or bad.

It was the _not_ knowing that was killing her.

She ran her hands over her face, forcing herself to move, to get into bed and to stop thinking for a little while. Staying up all night thinking of what could happen wasn't doing anything but driving her crazy, so she figured that her only way of escaping was to sleep.

Malia awoke to the sound of her phone blaring its ringtone a few hours later.

She didn't remember falling asleep, and was completely disoriented when she sat up, trying to feel for her cell phone in the crumpled sheets. Once she finally grabbed it and picked up, Malia rubbed her eyes and cleared her throat, trying to pull herself together. "Hello. Hello?"

"_Is this Malia Tate?"_

"Yes, who is this?" She asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and glancing at the clock. It was almost five in the morning.

"_This is Sheriff Parrish from the Beacon Hills Police Department. You told me to call you if I heard anything about Stiles…"_ He trailed off, and suddenly Malia was on her feet, her eyes wide as she waited.

But he said nothing.

The silence was deafening.

"What about him? Hello?" She could feel her heartbeat racing, faster and faster as each second passed. Malia started pacing back and forth, chewing on her nails in anxiety.

"_Malia… I think you'd better get down to the hospital. Now."_


	8. Stay

**Chapter Eight: Stay**

Half an hour had passed and not one person had told her anything.

Malia had walked right into the middle of a whirlwind of chaos - there were people running around everywhere, too distracted to notice that she was trying to get something out of them. Apparently the next town over had to send its patients to the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital temporarily, so the workload had doubled for the people here.

But she only had her sights set on one person.

Just when she was about to boil over with frustration, she saw Parrish rounding a corner into the room, talking with a man in a long white doctor's coat. When he saw Malia, he excused himself immediately.

"Where is he?" she demanded when he was within earshot. "You told me he was here -"

"He _is_ here," Parrish said firmly, nodding to something behind her. There was a mix of expressions on his face, but Malia didn't bother trying to differentiate between them.

Her eyes followed his until she was turning all the way around, facing the opposite end of the room. She clasped her hands over her mouth, holding back the sob of relief that bubbled up in her so fast she hardly noticed what was happening.

All she cared about was what was standing in front of her.

Stiles looked tired - _really_ tired, like he hadn't slept in days. His jacket was gone and his shirt untucked, covered in dirt and sweat and even a little blood. But other than all of that he looked… _fine_.

In fact, his face lit up the second he noticed her looking at him, and he moved first, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close fast. She melted in his arms, nuzzling his neck, her hands clutching his upper arms in a vice. "Oh God," she said. "Oh _God_ I thought something had happened to you."

"I'm fine, Malia," Stiles assured her, exhaling but not releasing her yet. "I'm sorry -"

She pulled back, her brows furrowing. "You didn't call. You didn't even text me. Not once. How could you just let me worry like that if you were fine?"

He shook his head. "I lost my phone," he explained, brushing her hair out of her face gently. "We were in pursuit of a suspect, there was some confrontation… It didn't end well." Stiles's eyes held a far away look for a minute, like he had experienced something very dark while he had been away. But she didn't dare ask now.

"I can see that," Malia sighed. Her fingers grazed a deep purple bruise circling his left eye and he grimaced.

"Malia, I'm so -"

"I know," she told him, pressing her lips together as her hands found both of his. "Can we get out of here now? I don't think I can stand being in this hospital any longer."

Stiles kissed her forehead and smiled softly. "Yeah. Let me take you home."

—

They were inseparable the entire day.

Malia insisted that he eat something and made them lunch, sandwiches and a bottle of her favorite wine. They sat on the couch together, her legs stretched across his lap and their faces so close they could feel each other's breath and smell the wine on it.

But there was nowhere she'd rather be. And from the look in his eyes, she could tell he felt the same way.

"So what happens now?" Malia found herself asking, absently swirling the dark liquid around in her glass.

Stiles sighed, his thumb brushing back and forth over her shin. "I think Parrish knows that this has been a stressful experience for both of us, so I don't think he'll be sending me off again any time soon."

"Good, because I just got you back," she told him.

"Well I'm not going anywhere," Stiles murmured, kissing her slow and long, before adding pressure, his hand sliding up her leg, over her hip and circling her waist. She melted into the kiss, still reveling in the feel of his lips against hers again, soft and warm and intoxicating.

She set her glass on the table with his, not breaking the kiss as she twisted around in his lap, kissing him deeper. He groaned softly, his arms around her waist tightening their hold, letting her know that he wasn't letting her go again. His fingers grazed the bare skin of her back, a sliver of flesh exposed by her top riding up, making her skin hot and feverish.

It had only been a week, but it felt like it had been forever since she'd felt his touch, so every nerve on her body was alert and sensitive.

After a few minutes, they broke apart for air, their foreheads still touching and their hearts beating fast. Malia climbed off of his lap and stood, grabbing Stiles's hand and dragging him to his feet, pulling him along towards her bedroom.

Once they were outside her door, she stopped, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. "I'm really glad you're back," she whispered.

"Me too," he replied, and then without notice, his hands were on her backside, lifting her so that she had to wrap her legs around his waist as he carried her inside, shutting the door behind them with his foot.

He carried her all the way to her bed, setting her down on the mattress and climbing between her legs, his mouth capturing hers again. Malia's hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and letting her eyes roam, taking in every detail, every contour, every _bruise_.

What she hadn't seen before was the large bruise over his rib cage that matched the one on his face, something he hadn't let on about before.

Malia didn't say anything, just gently allowing her fingers to graze the skin over it, and then pressing her lips just as gently against it. When she looked up, his eyes were closed, his features tense. She straightened up then and touched his face, making him reopen his eyes. They were dark, a sea of emotion.

"What are you thinking?" Malia asked.

He didn't say anything for a long moment, before something in his expression shifted and he sighed. "I was thinking," he said, "that I never got a chance to tell you something." Stiles kissed her briefly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I love you. So much."

Malia had known that it would be coming, but she still couldn't help the way that all of the air in her body left her, the way that she felt when she heard the words come from his mouth.

She was silent for so long that Stiles started to question if saying it right then had been the right thing to do. "It's okay if you don't want to say it back," he said softly, his hands moving to either side of her face as he continued to look at her. "I just wanted to let you know… 'cause you didn't want me to say it before… I've been waiting to get it out for a while and –"

"Stiles," Malia blurted suddenly, before allowing a laugh to escape her. "Shut up." She leaned forward and kissed him again, pressing her lips hard against his, sighing just a few seconds before pulling away. "I love you too."

"Good," he responded, grinning wide. She rolled her eyes, feeling her body relax again as she slipped a hand behind his neck and pulling him down into the kiss again.

When she woke up the next morning, he was still there.

He didn't stir when she shifted to look at him, but his arm was wrapped protectively around her waist, their heads only a few centimeters apart on the pillows. Malia watched him sleep for a long moment, smiling a little to herself as relief flooded her body.

He was _there_. After a whole week of worrying about him for every waking moment, he was lying there next to her, sound asleep and not going anywhere for a while.

And she was perfectly fine with that.

"You're staring at me," Stiles mumbled, his eyes barely open as he looked up at her. "Do you always do that?"

Malia smirked, "Well I guess that's for me to know and you to never find out."

"Creepy," he responded, yawning and pulling her towards him in one swift motion. His skin was warm against hers, his lips grazing her collarbone and moving up her neck to her ear. She shivered.

"Is that a problem?"

"Mmmm," he said, "Not right now. Ask again later."

Malia opened her mouth to respond, but then his mouth was on hers again and she forgot what she had wanted to say. His hand drifted down to her ass, squeezing slightly as her leg hooked around his hip. She rolled onto her back, pulling Stiles along with her so that he was on top, supporting his weight with a hand on one side of her head. He kissed her deeply, his tongue slipping into her mouth as the hand on her ass circled around, finding the place between her thighs, his fingertip pressing against her clit and rubbing until she was whimpering, her hips lifting abruptly.

She ran her hands down his chest, careful to avoid the bruise on his abdomen as he slipped a finger into her folds, and then another, making her leg tighten around him, her core warming. If he had been groggy before, he was fully alert, intent on pleasing her before the sun had even come up all the way.

But Malia wasn't about to start complaining now.

Her fingers wrapped around his length, rubbing up and down as he groaned against her lips, his fingers deep inside of her matching her rhythm. The faster she went as she stroked him, the faster his fingers would fuck her, and the louder she would moan. Eventually Stiles caved, unable to take it anymore, and soon he removed his fingers, and Malia guided his cock to her entrance, allowing him to push inside, filling her in a matter of seconds. She gasped, his mouth now at her neck, sucking at the flesh there as he drilled into her.

Malia's nails scraped down his back as she held onto him, her other leg joining the first one around his hip to anchor herself better. He held her hips as he thrust in and out, making her moan and whimper, her skin hot and feverish.

"Stiles – _yes_ – oh my God," she panted, her nails digging in deeper.

It wasn't long before she was lost completely in the moment. Malia was all sensation, from the feel of his skin on hers to his lips and teeth and every thrust – it was almost overwhelming. But she closed her eyes and let herself feel it all, until she felt her muscles tighten around him, and her orgasm wash over her. She rode it out, and few shallow thrusts later Stiles followed.

They laid together in bed afterwards, their limbs still entangled, and after a few minutes, Stiles spoke.

"I really do love you," he murmured, still playing with her fingers. "I'm pretty sure I have since the moment I met you."

"Don't ever leave me again, Stiles," Malia told him seriously, her voice quiet.

He nodded, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. "I already told you – I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "Nothing could tear me away from you now."

"Not even the promise of a promotion?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He didn't respond immediately, but after a short minute, he kissed the top of her head, tilting her chin upward with his finger so she could look him in the eye. Stiles smiled. "Not even that."


End file.
